


You kept me clean like no one else did

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Broken Promises, Cigarettes, Dark, Drabble, Kinda Weird, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Metaphors, Perfume, Poetic, Promises, Wordcount: 100-1.000, but it be like that, idk what to tag really, im sorry for people who see these tags, kind of poetic to be honest, no beta we die like men, some dark shit happens idk what to call it, we die like schlatts mental health actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Schlatt blames everyone else but himself - and maybe that's what he should do. He wasn't the one who broke his promises after all.
Relationships: only mentioned but not romantic
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	You kept me clean like no one else did

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for clicking on this fic, i hope you will have fun with it :)

The rum had a terribly corrosive taste, and an even stronger, deeper smell - which could bring tears to his eyes every time. But as soon as he swallowed it and overcame the fire that burned in his throat because of it, he forgot everything else he was feeling then.

Oh, Oh and the cheap fake French perfume he blew around his neck every day - even if he never went anywhere. The cheap, unnamed swill he used as a shower gel instead of one.

And the tobacco smoke from weakly wrapped cigarettes, which could be felt in every little tiny point inside the apartment, - as if a spoiled air freshener had burst into the airspace.

That’s exactly what he was — a lightly wrapped cigarette, an alcohol bomb dipped in cheap fake perfume, like just a climber pushed off the top rung of a ladder. But what else would he have been after no one was left for him?   
And he even lost himself just like as a gambler at the bet he made then - and he did so with his life. He made a bet. And he lost it. It's that simple.

* * *

  
At first, only a few left, but that didn’t bother him, who they did, didn’t mean much to him - they only respected him disinterestedly.   
He didn't even want to care - why would he want it to mean anything? He had thousand times more important things than that - a person - he could deal with.  
But the fracture came when He left. In his claim, it was too much - too much of what? He didn't realize it, though he tried. Maybe the fact that he didn’t understand led him to not want to understand. He must not have fucked up. He never fucked up. He must not have fucked up - he never did.

Or did he? 

He never really believed that no one was perfect because he was perfect. Was. Until he became what no one wanted to be - he was a fallen dictator who could only bathe in his own blood and filth instead of others'.   
Once upon a time, that bathtub was filled with gold, and now what? The huge, quiet emptiness that poured not only the tank under him but the black resounding in his head, which lured him closer and closer to itself with each passing moment, as if it was a lollipop made of frosting.

  
He really didn't understand why and how he got here - maybe he didn't want to understand why and how he got here, but he was almost certain for a while, for a while, that it wasn't his fault. Oh, how much of his fault was it.  
After all, how would his carefully kept treasure have left him?  
He would never have done that - he promised him! He muttered to him so many times in the evenings that he would never leave him alone. And now look at him, yet he sips his ancient wine on his couch alone. Where did he go? Where did he go if he promised? Why didn't he comply? Why did you promise?

  
_Wilbur, why the hell did you promise?_

* * *

So here he was, a lightly wrapped cigarette, an alcohol bomb dipped in cheap fake perfume - slipping off his former throne, alone in a tiny little room full of filth.   
This place used to be big, once upon a time.  
He doesn't even know the last time he held anything he didn't poison himself with - how would it have been so clean?

**He wasn't clean either. He never was.**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed it and didnt find it too weird lol ! :D <3


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